


Like Clockwork

by Electra_Heart



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: BillDip, M/M, Meguca Au, Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Electra_Heart/pseuds/Electra_Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gingerly, Bill picked up Dipper's soul gem. Its usual brilliant vermilion was now the color of old brick buildings, and blackness swirled within it. Swallowing thickly, Bill touched the soul gem to the grief seed, watching it purify back to its normal ruby hue; gallant with soft beauty once more.</p><p>Bill sat with his back pressed into the railing, and cradled Dippers head in his lap, not minding the crimson that had begun to stain his clothes. His throat felt tight with unshed tears. Dipper wasn't moving. </p><p>"C'mon, Pinetree...don't..don't do this to me again." he pleaded softly, willing those big brown eyes to open up.</p><p>Dipper groaned lowly, and Bills heart soared. He was alive. Of course he was alive. Dipper Pines didn't die off so easily. He was tough-- and he had Bill by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gold Dust

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based off the plot line of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and is essentially a meguca AU. Thank you for so much reading <3 ((UPDATE: this fic updates on wednesdays and fridays, and sometimes mondays)

  
****

Dipper gasped for breath, beads of sweat rolling down his face, his heart thumping widely in his chest. Everything burned, and at this point, he felt as if he could cough up his lungs if he tried hard enough. In his left hand, a sword gleamed, ruby red and too-bright to look at. His fingers clenched around the hilt, and his long cape dusted the ground as he straightened up. He rolled his shoulders, tasting copper in his mouth.

**  
**

The ground beneath him shifted, its paisley patterns melding into a million different hues. To his right was a staircase that branched and spiraled up into nothingness, an endless void above him. The walls morphed into a flashing frenzy, and Dipper could feel the bile rising in his throat at the sheer amount of color. This particular witches maze was the embodiment of epilepsy. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the vertigo.

**  
**

“AUREM IRA!”

**  
**

Dipper turned just in time to witness Bill lopping off the head of a familiar with the curl of his scythe. Its blood rained over his looming form for a moment, before its body disintegrated, leaving behind nothing but a patch of black in the ground--something akin to a burn mark. Bill reached forward and held out a hand to help him up, and Dipper realised he had been crouching down, arms over his head protectively. He took Bill's hand shakily, the familiars blood staining his gauntlet a darker shade.

**  
**

“You okay, kid?” Bill smiled uneasily. His hair was matted with blood, his face slick with sweat and grime, chest heaving with exhilaration and a glorious weapon propped up on his shoulder. He looked wild, and darkly beautiful.

**  
**

“Y-yeah..” Dipper answered after a moment, licking his lips. He felt lost, exhausted. But Meguca couldn’t afford to feel exhausted. That was the way you ended up a witches dinner.

**  
**

“Good. That familiar almost had you.” Bill grinned, pulling Dipper from his morbid thoughts. He spun his scythe in his hands for a moment, before turning sharply, his eyes narrowed.

**  
**

“What is it?” Dipper asked softly.

**  
**

“We’re close,” Bill murmurred. “I’m fairly certain this is-” without warning, the ground crumbled beneath him, and the witch they had been so tirelessly hunting shot up in a thick spiral of quilted, butcher-esque stitching and gleaming, pointed teeth. It caught Bill on the tip of its nose.

**  
**

“BILL!” Dipper cried, sprinting forward and leaping onto the creature's back. He swung his sword at the witch with inhuman  precision. Working as fast as possible, he severed hundreds of ropey, ribbon appendages, but they just kept coming and coming. The witch emitted a sound that was almost like a giggle, but it echoed with the resonance of church bells and windchimes. Dipper shuddered, caught off guard for a moment.

**  
**

And a moment was all it needed--Ribbons shot out from the witches folds and wrapped around Dippers ankles and wrists, cutting off his circulation.The witch stirred in delight below him, its grotesque iron ballgown clinking and shifting. The steely sheets rose and fell as the witch swung Dipper around haphazardly, trying to keep up with Bill’s relentless, calculated attack.

**  
**

Before he could maneuver out the way, the witch had flung Dipper onto a jagged edge of metal, effectively tearing into his torso. Dippers throat felt raw, and only then did he realize it was because he was screaming. And screaming, and screaming and screaming and--

**  
**

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Touch. Him.” Bill spat, slicing at the witch with a fury Dipper had never seen before. The witch shrieked as Bill tore off its ribbon arms with a single, clean swipe. They flailed, yellow and ragged and aimless, before uncurling into nothingness. Dipper was left lying motionless, fifty feet below.

**  
**

“Anlamsız adalet.” Bill announced coldly. His scythe tripled, and he swung all three blades onto the witches form with purpose and malice and anger clouding his heart. The witch disintegrated, showering Bill in black blood.

**  
**

The maze slowly unraveled around him. Gold and silver and magenta-blacks mixed into an endless, textured frenzy. Clothing buttons the size of apartment buildings folded in on themselves, and familiars went from looking like haunted mirrorings of porcelain dolls, to a whole lot of nothing. The night sky materialized above, thousands of stars twinkling lazily, and below him, the marbled concrete of a highway overpass. Real life, real time.

**  
**

Bill dropped to the ground on heavy feet. He swiped at his forehead, smearing witches blood down his cheek, breathing in sharply. The witches lair was gone, the only trace of the battle left sticking out of the concrete a few feet away-- a grief seed. Bill scooped it up, its articulate design biting into his fingers from being grasped so tightly. At his feet, Dipper laid in a crumpled heap, trembling and bleeding all over everything.

**  
**

Gingerly, Bill picked up Dippers soul gem. Its usual brilliant vermillion was now the color of old brick buildings, and blackness swirled within it. Swallowing thickly, Bill touched the soul gem to the grief seed, watching it purify back to its normal ruby hue; gallant with soft beauty once more.

**  
**

Bill sat with his back pressed into the railing, and cradled Dippers head in his lap, not minding the crimson that had begun to stain his clothes. His throat felt tight with unshed tears. Dipper wasn't moving.

**  
**

"Cmon, Pinetree...don't..don't do this to me again." he pleaded softly, willing those big brown eyes to open up.

**  
**

Dipper groaned lowly, and Bills heart soared. He was alive. Of course he was alive. Dipper Pines didn't die off so easily. He was tough-- and he had Bill by his side.

**  
**

"B-Bill." Dipper gasped, his fingers slipping over the gaping wound in his side. They came away slick with blood. Sticky and warm and wet and, oh god, there was so much, so much blood pouring and pouring. His torso was nothing but a mess of tattered flesh. Dipper moaned in anguish, his thoughts hazy with pain. He began to see stars behind his eyelids, terribly intricate constellations.

**  
**

"Hang in there." Bill said gently, rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out a harmless looking bandaid and teared open the paper. The plaster was covered in pink and Purple Hearts--Mabel's in-case-of-emergencies band aids.

**  
**

Bill stuck the band aid over the middle of Dippers wound with a particular lack of flourish, and watched as the flesh began to knit itself back together.

**  
**

Eventually, all that was left was a bandaid stuck to Dippers side. And a really bad memory.

**  
**

* * *

  


**  
**

Dipper woke up twisted in his sheets, his head pounding. Moonlight illuminated his bedroom in slats, and he could hear a car driving by outside his window. His bedroom materialized around him as his eyes adjusted; his bookshelf, his desk, his open closet and dirty laundry and schoolwork.

**  
**

Sitting up, Dipper checked his alarm clock. He had woken up twenty minutes early, and it would be pointless to try to go back to sleep now. Once he was awake, he was awake.

**  
**

Pushing aside the his too-warm blanket, he made his way to the kitchen. He left the lights off, refusing to assault his eyes at six in the morning, and instead felt his way around in the dark. His fingers closed around the aspirin at last, and he went to fill a glass of water, downing the the pills and effectively muting his headache.

**  
**

He padded down the hall on the edges of his feet, careful not to wake anyone else up. Past Mabels room, past his parents bedroom, past the bathroom, and finally, his own room, at the end of the hall. He shut the door behind him with a gentle click, and settled back into bed.

**  
**

Uncomfortable. Everything was too hot and his blanket felt itchy and he was too awake. The dream he had woken up from was incredibly technicolor vivid, and laced with the feeling of deja vu. Unsettling as hell.

**  
**

He wondered about the boy who had fought alongside him, who had patched him up and held him and worried about him.

**  
**

Dipper sighed and turned over onto his side, facing the wall and pulling his blankets tight around him. _How lonely did you have to be before you started conjuring up your own heroes?_  The desire for the imagined to be real made his chest ache.

**  
**

He stared at the wall until morning, eyelids as heavy as the whole entire world.

**  
**

And then the sun brightened behind his curtains, and he got out of bed with movements thick like honey. This particular morning went exactly like all mornings go. He brushed his teeth and washed his face with his twin sister Mabel by his side. Their mother talked legal work over bites of burnt toast, and Mabel crammed bacon into her mouth at the speed of light. Dipper sipped on some orange juice--he wasn’t very hungry. His stomach hurt. Their father breezed into the kitchen for the blackest coffee on the planet, and hugged them all, juggling a hurried goodbye and slipping out the door. The usual.

**  
**

And like usual, Dipper and Mabel walked to school with grey storm clouds overhead, and Mabel chattered about all the going-ons in her life. Older boys passed them on skateboards, and Dipper spotted Wendy, a girl he’d been crushing on since middle school. She waved to him, and he waved back, and that was pretty much the extent of their daily social interaction. Dipper knew she was unattainable, but he still appreciated her beauty.

**  
**

“Stop staring at her, bro bro. You’re even making _me_ uncomfortable.” Mabel laughed, jabbing him in the arm. Dipper echoed her laughter, but it felt empty.

**  
**

Around them, trees swayed in the Autumn winds, and golden red leaves danced to the ground.

**  
**

The entire day, Dipper stared out the window, watching them fall. He couldn’t focus today. It was like his mind hurt. He doodled swords in the margins of all his papers. Sharp with red ink.

**  
**

After lunch, he had settled into a desk in the back row, an elbow propped up on his French Languages textbook, fully ready to space out again. The teacher, a young woman in her mid twenties, had begun to rant about her failing love life.

**  
**

“Ladies! If he ever insists that you remake his eggs because they are not sunny side up, _rompre avec lui!_ ” she cried, smacking the blackboard with her fist.

**  
**

“ _Oui, Madame_.” the girls of the class answered halfheartedly. Scenes like this had become a daily occurrence, but Mabel still snickered next to him as if the joke was new. Her fingers were moving under her desk--no doubt she was continuing the friendship bracelet he had seen her start in math class. Despite himself, Dipper laughed along with her.

**  
**

“On a secondary note, we have a new exchange student with us today!” the teacher clapped excitedly. Dipper looked up curiously, and his heart nearly stopped cold.

**  
**

Standing at the front of the room was the boy from his dream..but...different. For starters, he wore the school uniform, and there was no blood in the blonde of his hair. He regarded the class with cold confidence. Murmurs filled the room as the boy picked up a stick of chalk, printing his name on the blackboard in wide, curlicue letters.

**  
**

_Bill Cipher._

**  
**

“Dipper..” Mabel poked his cheek. “ Are you okay? You look really pale and gross.”

**  
**

Dipper turned to see his sister giving him a worried smile. He blinked, back to reality, back to common sense. He must have seen this boy around before. That was the only explanation for him showing up in his dream.

**  
**

“Dipper Pines.”

**  
**

Dipper glanced upwards and almost fell out of his seat. Bill stood in front of his desk expectantly. Dipper looked around the room, then back to Bill, wondering if this was the universe's version of a twisted joke.

**  
**

“Me…?”Dipper asked, his voice cracking awkwardly.

**  
**

“Yes.” Bill laughed. “You’re the class representative, aren’t you?”

**  
**

Dipper nodded, finding he couldn’t quite form words on his tongue.

**  
**

“Then can you show me to the nurse’s office?” Bill smiled.

**  
**

“Um..Sure.” Dipper said blankly. He stood, feeling thoroughly weirded out. They left the room with the entire classes eyes on their backs, and the incessant chatter to match.

**  
**

They walked past several glass-walled classrooms with golden frames, past row after row of students in matching yellow and blue uniforms, and out into the hallway. Dipper wanted to make conversation, to say anything, really, but _"hey, I saw you in my dream last night"_ was the only thing he could come up with, and also the worst, so he remained silent.

**  
**

Blue marble clicked under their footfalls, the hallway otherwise empty. Dipper always noticed little details, and the hallways were always his favorite; Plated glass on all sides, empty save for the sunlight streaming in, they stretched on and on. The school was incredibly beautiful--it had been designed by the city's best architects, and yet, Bill seemed unmoved beside him as they walked.

**  
**

Abruptly, Bill stopped walking and turned to Dipper with an expression so intense that Dipper stumbled back.

**  
**

“Do you love your family?” he asked monotonously.

**  
**

“I...w-what?” Dipper stammered. Bill's eyes felt like they were staring straight through his skull and at all the thoughts in his mind. Catlike and golden. Dipper swallowed thickly.

**  
**

“Answer the question.” Bill sighed. He stopped looking so stiff and terrifying, just for a second.

**  
**

“Of..Of course I do.” Dipper answered, without hesitating. He thought of Mabel, and their Mother and their Father, and their hopelessly boring, routine existence. All that unconditional kindness. Of course Dipper loved them. What an odd question.

**  
**

Bill stepped forward, and before Dipper could stop him, Bill had pulled up the edge of his shirt, fingers cool against Dippers skin. Too taken aback to do anything, Dipper stared down at this boy’s hand on his waist, and what he saw caused him to nearly yelled out in surprise.

**  
**

Stuck to his side was a pink and purple bandage, an exact image of the one from his dream. His heart stuttered. Bill’s thumb ran over it. Knowingly. He was too close, much too close for comfort. Dipper could feel his cheeks reddening, and his skin tingled where Bill was touching him. He wanted to push him away, run for his life, away from all these more-than-coincidences. But he didn’t. He stood there, and Bill looked at him, taking his hand away. And even though he hadn’t spoken, Dipper _knew_.

**  
**

“Promise me... that you wont try to change your fate, Dipper Pines.” Bill pleaded lowly. Dipper could feel the warmth of his words on the shell of his ear. Nervousness ensconced him. He found that he couldn’t answer. Something flashed in Bill's eyes, something close to pain, as the boy from his dream turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened at all.

**  
**

And Dipper was left standing there with his fingers shaking and splayed over his torso. Confused, shaken, and very, very alone.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**


	2. Witch's Kiss

  
****

When Wendy invited Dipper and Mabel to her party, Dipper was speechless. So instead, Mabel did all the talking.

“We would _love_ to come, Wendy! Right, Dipper?” She exclaimed, holding onto Dippers arm enthusiastically, and also way too tightly. The don’t-fuck-this-up-for-me signal. Dipper managed a nod, and Wendy smiled, her freckles shifting everywhere. Dipper’s heart lurched, but he also felt like he was about to throw up a little bit.

“Great. See you guys tonight, then.” Wendy said, and gave them a bit of a half-wave before walking away.

“See you tonight, Wendy!” Mabel called after her, even though Wendy was already out of earshot. As soon as she disappeared down the hall, Mabel let out a breath.

“Good job, Dipper. I mean it. Thank you for not being totally weird.” she grinned encouragingly, and patted Dippers arm. He let out a sort of distressed noise.

 

You see, in the entirety of his mediocre high school life, he had never once been invited to a party. Not even a shitty party. Mabel, on the other hand, being the social butterfly that she was, attended parties almost every weekend. You would think that they were a package deal--you invited Mabel, you got Dipper too. But that wasn’t really the case. Ever. Dipper read books on the weekends. Sometimes he would play video games too. And that was it. He had left the self-disappointment behind during the first month of freshman year. He was a pro at being a loner. But now, everything was out of order, like his bedroom when their mom went away on business trips, but worse.

Not only had they been invited to a party, but they had been invited to what would most likely be a _legendary_ party. To put it simply, Wendy was rich. And single, and beautiful, and she lived alone. In a penthouse. She was both the envy and desire of every single thing in the school with a beating heart and breath in their lungs. And she threw parties to match.

Dipper didn’t even own clothes that were presentable enough for _leaving the house_ , let alone a Wendy Corduroy party. Mabel had to dig through his closet for 45 minutes before she had found something doable.

“You’re lucky I’m a miracle worker, Dip Dop.” she proclaimed as she handed him a grey v-neck, and a pair of black skinny jeans he had never worn due to having the confidence of a walnut. He accepted the clothes with anxiety coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to dive under his covers and hide forever, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Mabel that attending this party was single handedly the most daunting task he would ever take on in his lifetime.

He couldn’t break Mabel’s heart. She looked too pretty tonight. He long hair fell down her back in soft, glossy ringlets, and her dress fit her perfectly. Inevitably, it was very purple. Dipper had asked her really kindly not to wear heels, but she refused, and as they ascended ninety floors and finally reached Wendy’s penthouse, Mabel stepped out nearly a foot taller than him.

Immediately, Dipper’s head had begun to pound. The lighting was dim, if not barely there, and the music was so loud he could feel his whole body hum with the pulsating beat. Someone immediately thrust a beer into his hands. He held it with tight fingers, close to his chest, and tried to control his breathing. Everything smelled like weed and perfume and food and people and risk. His thoughts felt like they were swimming through jello. Taking a deep breath, he took a sip of his beer, and forced himself not to wince from its bitter warmth.

For the next few hours, Dipper stayed close to the wall, observing. No one talked to him, and he was completely fine with that, because it meant that he wouldn’t have to talk over the music, while simultaneously making sure he wasn’t being completely awkward. He was always bad at multitasking. He raised his plastic cup to his lips, surprised to find that it was empty. He was halfway through his third beer when he heard it. The voice.

_“Help me.”_

Blinking, he turned around, looking for the source of the child-like cry for help. No one had seemed to notice it. He rubbed his eyes. He needed more alcohol. He needed to loosen up big time.

Pushing past a throng of people, he maneuvered into the kitchen, and refilled his cup, his back pressed into someone’s elbow.

“Sorry.” he muttered, though he obviously couldn’t be heard. The girl he had apologized to, was, in fact, a long haired blonde girl, who was in the middle of making out with his sister.

“O..kay. Have fun Mabel.” he grimaced, pushing his way out of the kitchen. He felt dizzy. And sluggish. He took another swig of beer. People jostled into him, and he laughed a little too loudly. His beer spilled all over the person next to him.

Belatedly realising what he had done, a stream of incoherent sorrys poured out of his mouth.

“Oh man I’m so sorry I didn’t mean that... coming here was a bad idea oh god... oh man I’m really sorry.” he insisted, his words coming out in a slurred rush. All the people around him felt like they were melding into each other, and the flashing lights were so, so dizzying. To his horror, he felt embarrassed tears pricking in his eyes. His stomach churned. He wanted to go home.

“Hey..It’s okay.” a familiar voice assured, cool, but with a lilt of kindness. He felt a hand on his arm.

Bill. He had spilled his beer on Bill, who was removing his really nice sweater that fit him really well in favor of the clean t shirt underneath. Mortified, Dipper could feel his entire face turning bright red.

“Oh my god. Bill.” Dipper covered his face with his hands, praying that he could just drop dead or melt into the floor or something. He wanted to run all the way home and hole up in bed for the rest of his life.

Gently, Bill tugged Dippers hands away from his face, laughing softly. Dipper averted his eyes, willing the warmth in his face to dissipate.

“Calm down, kid. It’s fin--wait are you blushing?” Bill asked, a mischievous grin playing at his lips.

“W-what..No. It’s from drunk..Drinking..I...Drinking…And don’t call me kid since...you’re my age and that’s… that’s dumb” Dipper stuttered, somewhat angrily. He couldn’t even form a god damned sentence. Bill grinned. Stupid Bill.

“Okay, Pines. Do you want to dance, then?” he asked, taking Dippers hand and lacing their fingers together. Dipper stared down at their hands, then back up at Bill's face. Bill seemed very pleased with himself.

“I don’t dance.” Dipper frowned, pulling his hand away. He wasn’t in the mood for being someone's toy. He wanted to go home, take a shower, and go to sleep. Possibly forever.

“You don’t really have to do much to dance at a party like this.” Bill said, gesturing to the huge mob of people dancing a few yards away. He was right, for the most part. All people were doing was grinding on each other and swaying to the music. It was like group-swaying. Dipper giggled to himself, because group-swaying was a brilliant way to put things.

“What’s so funny?”

“Group-swaying.” Dipper replied. He stopped laughing, trying to keep emotions from showing on his face, and failing. Bill's hand was on his elbow, his thumb pressing lightly into the crease. Dipper stared down at Bill's hand. Which was touching him. All the butterflies in his stomach crashed into each other and died.

He really, really wanted to go home.

“I.. I can’t dance. I’m not going to dance with you, Bill. I don’t...even know you.” Dipper sighed. He pushed past Bill, and his weird behavior, and his really nice hair, and went to search for Mabel. He needed to go home. He didn’t even care about ruining her fun anymore.

_“Help me, Dipper. Help me!”_

Dipper whirled around. There it was again. That voice. He wondered if being drunk was always like this.

_“Hurry, Dipper! Help me!”_

Dipper ran a hand through his hair, looking around. He took down a hallway to his left, following the voice. He could’ve sworn this hallway was not there a minute ago.

_“HURRY!”_

__

Dipper broke into a sprint, which was slightly difficult, considering the amount of alcohol going on a joyride through his system. He held onto the wall, catching his breath for a moment. Everything seemed wrong. He felt cold all over, and he couldn’t hear the music any more. Just the rhythm of a sound like dripping water. Dipper rubbed his eyes, squinting into the length of the passage. He couldn’t recall if it had been this indigo-dark before. He glanced up, and where there should have been ceiling was instead an endless, black void.

“What the hell?”

_“HURRY! DIPPER! HE’S HURTING ME!”_

“Get out of my head!” Dipper growled, feeling himself sober up a little. His entire body thrummed like a single, anxious heartbeat. He took off again, and the hallway began to twist wildly. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t even possible.

_“OVER HERE!”_

Ahead of him was a blue haired boy, slumped against the wall. With a scythe stuck through his chest and wide, glassy, lifeless eyes. Dipper resisted the urge to vomit. He stumbled back, away from the gory remains. A detached arm and a mess of entrails littered the scuffed tile ground, staining the checkered black and white a deep, impure red. Dipper clutched at his mouth, willing away his nausea, willing away the sight before him, and sinking to the floor. 

“You finally came!” a cheerful voice echoed. Dipper glanced up. Standing in front of him was the same blue haired boy he had seen dead just a moment ago. He let out a choked sound, wondering what the hell someone had slipped into his drink to make him see things like this.

The boy settled next to Dipper, completely oblivious to his horrified reaction. He wore all white-- and not a single thread was stained with blood.

“I’m Will.” he smiled., and patted Dipper’s leg. “You know, Dipper..I...I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.” he pouted, tears forming in his huge blue eyes. Dipper could only blink at him. The idea of trying to form words was unfathomable at this point. This boy’s dead body was propped up against the wall straight across from them, and yet, he was sitting next to Dipper, alive and unfazed.

“Get away from him. _Now_ , Will.” a voice hissed. A voice that belonged to Bill.

And _this_ was the Bill that Dipper recognized. The Bill from his dream. Standing in an intricate, long sleeved cloak and thigh high boots and a shirt with complicated looking clasps in the front. And a face full of dangerously level-headed fury.

Bill waltzed over to the dead Will and pulled the scythe from his body, triggering another stream of blood. His heels clicked in the crimson puddles as he made his way over to the alive Will, who trembled with fear.

“D-don’t hurt me, Bill. P-please! Dipper...Dipper do something!” he stuttered, tears streaming down his face. Full on sobbing. His pale little hands were swiping at his cheeks, trying to catch the tears, without much success. A heart-achingly helpless mess.

Finding a sudden sense of courage, Dipper shot up and quickly shielded Will with his body, not fully believing that Bill wouldn’t hurt him either, but choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Dipper. Move out of the way. You have no idea what Will is like.” Bill ordered, his mischievous attitude from earlier completely gone. He had turned cold and intimidating.

“I might not, but I do know that I won’t let you _murder_ him at Wendy’s party. Plus, I’m fairly certain you killed that Will over there.” Dipper replied through clenched teeth. He moved closer to Will, feeling protective over the oddity of a boy. Will sniffed and clutched Dipper’s shirt, hiding his face against his back.

“Dipper. Move.” Bill growled, growing visibly annoyed, his gaze hardening.

“No.”

“Well, then you leave me no choice.” Bill sighed, looking slightly remorseful, if only for a second. He shoved Dipper out of the way with unprecedented strength. Dipper gasped as his body collided with the ground, about twenty feet away from where he had originally been.

“Will!” he cried, reaching out to the blue haired boy, who seemed to be maneuvering away from Bill the with speed and agility of a squirrel. Shockingly fast and inhumanly agile.

“Get back, Dipper. This isn’t your fight.” a girls voice instructed behind him. He turned to see Wendy, wielding a huge, oversized axe in her hands, and a terrified Mabel by her side. She gave them a no nonsense look, and Dipper understood, scrambling backwards for safety. Mabel crouched down next to him, terror clear in her eyes.

“What the heck is going on?” she asked, almost pleadingly. Dipper just shook his head. He didn’t know what to say. Nothing he could offer would make sense, anyways. “Isn’t that the exchange student from earlier? Why does Wendy look like she’s in some really well made cosplay? Dipper, I think I might be tripping.” she gasped.

“I..I don’t know Mabel, but Bill’s trying to kill that guy and I don’t know what to do and-” cutting Dipper off, Wendy shot past him, pressing the tip of her axe to Bills temple. Bill glared at her and flipped his scythe in his hands, quickly shifting its aim from Will to the girl before him, before dashing off other direction. Wendy's jaw flexed as she took off after him, long auburn hair streaking behind her. Taking the opportunity, Will slipped away from the battle, barrelling towards Dipper and Mabel. He grabbed Dipper by the front of his shirt and sobbed into his shoulder with relief. Mabel pried him off and grabbed his hand.

“We have to run. I don’t know what’s going on, but we have to leave. Now.” she said sternly. Dipper nodded, and the trio ran off together, abandoning Wendy and Bill in the endless, inky black behind them.

They ran as fast as their legs could manage, the hallway leading all the way down into the parking garage of the building. Dipper let go of Will and Mabel’s grasp and stopped to catch his breath, surveying the unfamiliar area.

And it was completely wrong. Last time Dipper checked, parking garages didn’t stretch on and on until they morphed into dead meadows. Parking garages had _working_ cars, not broken down husks of metal, with hues that you would find in a crayon box. The sky was a deep red-orange, like a botched sunset.

Will had already regained his composure, and he stood about fifty feet away. He had been standing beside them mere seconds ago. Dipper narrowed his eyes, and glanced at Mabel, who seemed equally confused. Will was not human. _That_ much was certain.

“Dipper...Where _are_ we..?” Mabel murmured, grabbing her brothers hand softly. Dipper just shook his head, having no explanation to offer. He wanted to believe that he had no clue, but in reality, the familiarity of their surroundings disturbed him deeply. The feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on..that something was off, and he just wasn’t sure what, was the exact same feeling he had gotten during his dream.

A witch’s lair, as he recalled.

“Dipper! Mabel!” Wendy called out, her voice ringing with odd acoustics. Relief flooded through him as Wendy ran up to them, hugging them both closely. “Thank god you guys are alive.” she breathed. Pulling away, her eyes darted wildly, scanning the area around them. “We certainly aren’t safe, though.”

“Wendy!” Will cried. A second ago, he was fifty feet away. Now he stood in front of them, his arms wrapped tightly around Wendy's middle. Dipper felt dizzy. None of this was right.

“Hi, Will.” she smiled, patting his hair softly. “Dipper, Mabel, this is Will.” she explained, and although it was clear that much further explanation was due, Wendy didn’t add anything to the little introduction. Instead, she pulled out a small egg-shaped crystal, and held it up to the sky. It glowed a deep emerald green.

“Okay, we’re close. You three, stay back.” Wendy instructed, and with no further orders, she leapt into the sky. It wasn’t confusing for long--a huge technicolored worm-like creature with the face of a plastic baby doll spiralled out of the ground. Wendy immediately hacked at its side with the blade of her axe, and it shrieked, a sound so terrible, Dipper wished he hadn’t heard it before, wished he didn’t recognize it. But he did.

Beside him, Mabel pressed her palms to her ears, cringing, but watching Wendy all the same, silently rooting for her. They watched as creatures eye darted around aimlessly, like it was searching for something. It settled on Dipper.

Without warning, it shot back into the ground, and before Dipper could gather himself quick enough to move, it shot back out from under him. A horrified scream ripped at Dippers throat. He gripped the side of its face as it thrashed, almost as if it had lost it’s mind. Dipper had nothing to grasp onto. His fingers slipped, and he fell nearly a hundred feet, hitting the ground with a dull thud, Mabel’s screams ringing in his ears as his eyes slipped shut.

* * *

The next few hours were a hazy blur. All he knew was that he was laying on Wendy’s living room couch, and that his head hurt like a bitch. Everything felt thick and viscous, and he was cold as hell. He could hear voices in the other room, and he forced himself to open his eyes, managing to, but barely.

Standing above him, glowing with lazy morning sunlight, was none other than Bill.

Dipper willed himself to open his mouth and yell for help, to scream, to run, to fight, to do _something_. But his body felt like lead. All he could do was stare back.

Bill unclipped his cloak, and laid it over Dippers body. It was still warm with his body heat. Bill’s eyes were like honey. He touched the side of Dippers face, and the sweetness in his eyes dissipated, His forehead creasing with worry.

“A witches kiss.” he mumbled, his fingers tracing an invisible design. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the edge of Dippers jaw, right where he had touched him. It was so light, it almost wasn’t a kiss. It was a barely there kiss, but Dipper felt it all the way up to his toes. And when Bill pulled away, there was that horrible anguish in his honey eyes. And Dipper blinked, and he was gone.

**  
**  
  
  
  



	3. I Want To Be Extraordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic updates on Wednesdays and Fridays :)

Soft sunlight streamed through long, ivory curtains, casting a warm glow on the spotless living room. Everything gleamed, everything was quiet. Not a single throw pillow was out of place. It was like a party--and a battle, had never happened at all. Dipper sat up and rubbed the back of his head, wincing. Pain prickled his scalp, and a large bruise swelled on the side of his head. His fingers closed around something velvety warm--Bill's cloak pooled in his lap. He ran his fingers over the black material, frowning to himself.

Leaving the cloak on Wendy’s sofa, Dipper made his way to the kitchen. He could hear Mabel speaking lowly, Wendy laughing gently, and another voice he recognized, although not at first. Will’s voice. The three of them were seated around a circular glass table, Cakes and coffees and pastries spread out before them. Wendy grinned as she noticed him, and bit into a cookie.

“Look who’s awake. Come sit with us Dipper. We have a lot to talk about.”

Dipper sat down silently, and poured himself a cup of coffee. The last thing he imagined when he decided to come to her party was that he would be waking up on her fancy living room leather couch, or eating fancy rich people breakfast with her. He had to wonder how she managed to look good in a messy bun, a band t shirt, and shorts with too many loose threads after such a crazy night. Some kind of magic.

Across from him, Will was wordless, his eyes trained on the table. Blue hair fell into his face, and he didn’t bother to push it back. Instantly, the sight of his dead doppelganger popped into his head, and Dipper felt nausea slowly creeping up on him. The image of festering intestines strewn across cherrywood floors, everything dyed deep and red, lifeless, unseeing eyes. Dipper had never seen a dead body, and he was somewhat traumatized.

Breaking his thoughts, Wendy set an emerald, oval shaped crystal onto the table with flourish. It gleamed in the morning sunlight casting its rays onto the table, splitting it's glow into a kaleidoscope of green fractals. Mabel let out a soft gasp.

“This is a soul gem.” Wendy explained. Leaning forward, Mabel picked it up gingerly. Its facets swirled with a thousand shades of jade in her small hand, and the brass it was set in coiled elegantly at its base, branching up to its tip.

“It’s so glittery.” Mabel breathed, setting it back in the middle of the table, as slow as cold syrup.

“Go on, Will. Tell them how it works.” Wendy urged, nudging Will in the side and handing him the soul gem. He took it from her and glanced nervously at Mabel and Dipper.

“Um..a soul gem harnesses the power of a meguca. It bends the human physical limits by exceeding its protective barrier and unlocking the soul’s natural ability. Oh, also, it increases stamina by tenfold, and grants fighting ability beyond that of a human’s capability.” Will explained, turning Wendy’s soul gem over in his hands. His voice was small and timid, and he didn’t look anyone in the eye.

“Wait wait wait. What is a _meguca_?” Mabel asked, eyes narrowed. “And why do they have to fight things?”

“A..A meguca is someone who is granted a single wish in exchange for the promise to battle witches, and free this world of evil and despair.” Will answered. He handed back Wendy her soul gem, and his eyes snapped up to Dipper.

“Yes, Bill is a Meguca.” he stated, even though Dipper hadn’t said anything. Wendy frowned and drummed her fingers on the table, biting into a croissant.

“Will and I suspect that Bill was trying to keep you from making a contract and becoming meguca yourself.” Wendy informed him between bites, her tone serious. Will nodded in agreement.

“It may have been a territorial thing. Meguca like to guard their own territories, keep witches in the area as their own game, and thus keep their grief seeds to themselves.” he explained, fidgeting in his seat.

“What’s..what’s a grief seed? None of this makes sense.” Dipper managed to get out. His head was swimming. This entire thing was surreal.

“When we beat a witch, we get a grief seed, or a witch's egg. They’re used to cleanse our soul gems, which get all gross and muddy after battles.” Wendy answered. She tucked an auburn lock behind her ear, and Dipper refilled his mug with coffee, feeling exhausted and confused. Beside him, Mabel was onto her third piece of cake, and she listened intently to Wendy’s every word, leaning forward in her chair. Will looked highly uncomfortable, as if he wanted to run away but had no choice and was stuck talking to them.

A heavy question hung in the air; what the hell was he? Obviously not human--he had regenerated a new body after being thoroughly...killed by Bill.

“Bill is a murderer.” Dipper pointed out solemnly, staring into his coffee and watching the milk swirl. The entire table fell silent. Will seemed increasingly out of sorts.

“Well...not exactly. He knew I could regenerate. Incubators shed bodies like clothing.” Will admitted.

“Is that what you are…? An...incubator?” Dipper asked, raising an eyebrow. Will nodded.

“He collects the used up grief seeds, and harnesses their energy.” Wendy said.

“I was _wondering_ what was in it for you.” Mabel grinned, poking Will’s arm. Dipper’s head was pounding. He wanted to go home and close his eyes for all of eternity. This entire situation was like a botched nightmare.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Wendy said sympathetically, laying her hand over his.

See, he knew he was entirely outside of himself, because on a normal day he would be freaking out if Wendy semi-held his hand. But now he didn’t really care at all. His mind was on the fact that he would have to get Bill his cloak back somehow, and it obviously showed on his face.

“I don’t even care about the death stuff. Make me a magical girl, Will!” Mabel exclaimed, standing on the table and pointing a butter knife at the ceiling.

“Whoa, whoa, Mabel wait.” Wendy yelped, tugging Mabel down. “Being meguca is serious stuff. Your life is almost constantly on the line, and you have to devote yourself to tireless battle.”

“But Wendy, you also get a super cute fighting outfit, and a _weapon_ , a _magic weapon_ and any wish you want. There’s like, absolutely zero downside to this.” Mabel scoffed, licking the jam off of the edge of the butter knife. Wendy shook her head.

“You don’t understand, Mabel. It isn’t fun.” she sighed.

“Then _make_ me understand. Take me and Dipper on a witch hunt.” she proposed. The entire room was thick with tangible silence. Will had a gleam in his eye that almost seemed mechanical, and it put the taste of distrust in Dipper’s mouth.

“Okay, fine. That’s actually a pretty smart suggestion. I guess that way you could see what fighting witches is really like.” Wendy said after a moment.  Dipper’s eyes went wide. _She was agreeing to this?_

“I never agreed to this. Mabel, you’re not putting yourself in danger. Wendy, we politely decline your invitation.” Dipper huffed. He stood up and brushed the crumbs off of his clothes. Will was looking at him skeptically, and Dipper felt his skin crawl. None of this was right.

“Dipper, I’m going on a magical quest because it sounds awesome and nothing can stop me, especially not you.” Mabel argued, biting agressively into a piece of toast. “And I’m also gonna stay here and eat this toast with Wendy.” she added. “Just...go home and sleep, Dip. You look exhausted.”  
  


“Gee, thanks, Mabel.” Dipper sighed. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed it in hurriedly, and went to go get Bill’s cloak, scooping up the soft fabric in his arms.

“Monday after school!” Wendy called after him as he left, clicking the door shut behind him.

* * *

 

It would be a flat out lie for Dipper to say he hadn’t thought about Wendy’s offer. He spent the rest of the weekend wrapped in Bill’s cloak, knees drawn to his chest, thinking a whole lot. Which was dangerous. Dipper didn’t like to let his mind wander, because when his mind wandered, he felt gross and hollow and empty, but he couldn’t really help himself. He thought a whole damn lot about his mediocrity, and what it might be like to be...extraordinary. Or at least feel that way, for a single moment.

He didn’t even leave his room to eat. He had a massive hangover, and his head was ringing, and he couldn’t even lean back, because the bruise at the base of his skull protested painfully every time something pressed on it. Good thing that was the only damage he had taken when he fell of the back of a...witch. The idea of that would have to take some time to get used to, and thankfully Mabel hadn’t said anything since she’d returned home.

Their walk to school on Monday was awkward and, for the most part, wordless. Beside him, Mabel wore a pink scarf that she knitted herself. It covered her nose and cheeks, obscuring her smile.   It was starting to get colder outside, the trees were more barren than they had been a week ago, and it was unpleasantly chilly. Fall had begun to meld into Winter, and the darkened sky had something to say for it.

The entire day, Dipper’s head was in clouds. It turned out that Bill was literally perfect at everything, and he was also in most of Dipper’s classes. During math, he knew the answer to every single calculus question, and the teacher even had him do problems on the board, an honor that had only been bestowed upon Dipper, and even then, only once. During French, he blatantly flirted with the teacher using perfect sentence structure. He spoke so fluidly and fast that Dipper was sure only a native French speaker would be able to understand him.

During PE, Bill flawlessly climbed the rope that hung from the middle of the gym ceiling, beating the schools personal record by a long shot. In English Lit, he recited shakespeare without tripping over a single word. By the end of the day, he was every teacher’s favorite student, and the desire of every doe-eyed girl in their grade. Dipper had to admit that he was uncomfortably jealous, and even a little bit in awe.

Bill was a murderer. He was a cold hearted killer. But he had a dazzling smile, and Dipper realised how easy it was to be fooled by his natural charm. The guy didn’t even have to do anything, he just charmingly existed, which was attractive in its own right. And his cloak was stuffed at the bottom of Dipper’s backpack, which meant Dipper was going to have to begrudgingly part with it, as well as approach Bill, which had gained a whole lot of traction in its own right. Bill wasn’t new anymore. He managed to mean something in this labyrinth of a school in less than three days, something Dipper had spent years trying to achieve. Being nervous around him had a whole new meaning now.

Good thing Bill was the unapproachable type. That meant Dipper had no one in his way. He could just walk straight up to Bill if he wanted to. He was breaking his neck over it the entire day. There wasn’t any excuse not to talk to him, not to ask him all the millions of questions he had ever since he had seen him in a dream.

Luckily, Bill had approached him first.

“Pines. Do you have my cloak?” he had asked as they stood in the hallway outside of English, which was their last period together, surrounded by beige lockers and unlit, cloudy skies through windows.

The first thing Bill noticed about Dipper was that he looked...tired. Deep bags were etched under his eyes, and his cheeks were flush. He looked antsy and nervous. Bill’s eyes instantly softened. He did feel a little bad. The entire thing was new to Dipper, after all. Dipper dug through his bag and pulled out the cloak, shoving it into Bill’s hands.

“Sorry it’s all crumpled...I had to hide it from my sister.” he said apologetically, eyes downcast. Bill folded it and placed it in his own bag.

“Don’t worry about it.” he smiled. “You were still pretty drunk...and I felt bad.” he elaborated, wondering if Dipper had remembered being kissed on the cheek. Hopefully not. Bill felt a pang of..sadness..maybe. He didn’t care if it was weird. He wanted Dipper to remember, and to just stop being so...afraid around him.

“Dipper..Listen to me..Do you remember what happened that night?” Bill asked sternly. Dipper nodded, fear flashing in his eyes.

“This is what life is like for those of us who make a contract. It isn’t exciting. It’s terrifying, and hellish.”

“What..what was your wish, Bill? What did you become meguca for?” Dipper blurted, immediately feeling stupid for even asking at all. Bill’s gaze hardened. He looked ruthless, and for an honest moment, Dipper was scared of him.

“It doesn’t matter.” he stated after way too long of a moment. A blonde lock of hair fell into his eyes. Dipper reached forward and tucked it back shakily, pulling away his fingers as if he had been burned.

“Why do you..care so much? About this? About me?” he asked quietly. A pained look crossed Bill’s features. He caught Dipper’s fingers in his grasp before he could pull them away fully. Dipper’s hand was warm and kind of sweaty and also wonderful. For a moment, he pretended. He could almost feel it too-- the two of them standing in an empty meadow, the night sky clear and promising overhead, white wildflowers at their feet, lazy smiles, kind, gentle things. But he wasn’t there. He was entirely here, and Dipper was afraid of him and hated him and he was so, so tired of this.

“It shouldn’t matter. It wont ever matter, really.” Bill said. His voice felt hollow, as if he were speaking through some sort of proxy instead of himself. In the corner of his eye, he saw Will, peering at them curiously from behind some lockers.

  
He grimaced and turned to leave. Dipper wouldn’t listen. Of course he wouldn’t, because he never did.


	4. Married To The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> most of these chapter titles are lines from songs because I'm bad at titles ;)

Wendy stood at the bottom of the endless stone steps that led to the school building, her long hair dancing in the wind. Behind her, the sun dipped behind the trees, waving a pink goodbye, the outline of the moon already visible among the orange-blue clouds. Dipper padded down the steps with Mabel by his side. She was doing an especially bad job of staying subtle, swinging a baseball bat and ranting about all the witch ass she was gonna kick.

“Dipper this is going to be so exciting! Wendy’s gonna do her transforming thingy, probably! Man that’ll be so freaking _awesome_ , plus she looks super hot in her magical outfit. All that lace…” Mabel grinned, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Dipper reluctantly agreed with her. Wendy _did_ look super hot in her meguca clothes.

So yes, he had agreed to come. Part of him was angry with Bill for leaving him in the dark, jostling him around emotionally and somehow showing up in time to make everything worse. Part of him felt the need to protect Mabel, who always bit off more than she could chew. Most of him was angry at himself. Angry for being so...regular. He knew Mabel thought he was lame. She didn’t have to say it, he just _knew_. Which was why he decided to prove her (and himself) wrong.

Up ahead, Wendy waved at them, and Mabel waved back with her baseball bat.

“Wendy! I brought a bat!” she yelled, turning a few heads in their direction. Dipper sighed. It was going to be a long night.

“Mabel! Dipper! I’m glad you guys came.” Wendy smiled, her arm around Wills shoulders. He had appeared out of no where, and it was quite unsettling, as it usually was. Dipper gave him a cautionary look, and he returned it with an impish smile.

“Hah..well I would never miss out on this.” Dipper laughed nervously.

“But I thought that yesterday you said-” Dipper clamped a hand over Mabel’s mouth, cutting her off. She licked his hand and he jerked it away with a yelp.

“Mabel!” he hissed, wiping his palm on his jacket. Mabel giggled smugly.

“Don’t worry about it, Dipper. I don’t blame you for being skeptical about this the other day.” Wendy admitted. She dug through her book-bag for a moment, before pulling out her soul gem. “It can get pretty...wild.”

“Wendy has been tracking a witch called Charlotte for about a week now, and we think that we’ve zeroed in on its location!” Will piped up, his blue eyes wide and excitable. If Dipper wasn’t entirely put off by him, he might find the guy a little...cute, in a baby animal sort of way.

“That’s right. I think we’ve finally got this one in the bag.” Wendy agreed. “We should get going, guys. The longer we wait around here the harder this gets.”

Mabel knocked her bat into her palm, grinning from ear to ear. Even Will looked excited. He bounded off ahead of them, phasing in and out of the material plane like some sort of physical glitch.

“Everyone follow Will.” Wendy instructed, and they began on foot, taking a route through the nearest neighborhood. Around them, tree branches rustled up against each other, whispering knowingly as the sun disappeared behind the business district buildings, outlining their dismal grey-blues in a cool purple. Stars twinkled brightly overhead, the freckles of the universe. Wendy tipped her head up to the sky, stretching her arms over her head.

“The cold is the best. I feel awake.” she said softly. “We’re close. I have a feeling Charlotte took root in the shopping district.”

“What makes you say that?” Dipper asked, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. The people walking by seemed completely fine. Couples passed by with arms full of bags, and retail workers were closing up shop. “Everything looks normal.”

“No. Look.” Will murmured, by his side where he wasn’t a minute ago. He pointed to the top of a building.

“Oh my god,” Mabel whispered. A woman stood dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop, teetering haphazardly, ready to jump. Dipper drew in a sharp breath. He definitely could _not_ handle the sight of another dead body in such a short amount of time.

“Let’s go.” Wendy ordered, and no one objected. The group darted towards the front entrance of the building, staying in the shadows. Luckily, no one paid them any attention. Reaching forward, Dipper tried at the door, rattling the unmoving handle.

“It’s locked.” he huffed, kicking the base of the glass door in frustration.

“That’s okay!” Will chirped. He pressed an index finger to the latch, and it clicked, swinging open.

“Whoa. Will, that was so cool!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Mabel, be quiet. We’re breaking and entering.” Dipper whisper-yelled. Mabel muttered an offhand sorry as the group slipped into the building.

It was immediately clear that things were off. The air was heavy, like water, and the sound of an off-key violin hummed in the background with muffled awfulness, as if a drunk was trying his hand at the instrument for the first time in the next room over. The store’s mannequins appeared humanoid, sporting arms and legs and other extra appendages in twisted places. Dipper reached through his backpack, his fingers closing around his flashlight. He pulled it out and turned it on, its yellowy light casting a waxy shadow in front of them.

“Blugh. Those mannequins are gross.” Mabel said, squaring her shoulders and raising her bat. “DIE! DIE UNHOLY!” she shrieked, bashing the closest one to the ground. It caved like wet cardboard, gooey bubblegum pink spilling out of its sides.

“MABEL! We don’t have time for that!” Dipper yelled, pulling her away. Wendy had already disappeared in the darkness ahead. They had a mission-- to keep that woman from pitching herself off the roof.

“This way, guys!” Will called, standing a few yards ahead of them at the base of an architecturally baffling set of stairs. The three of them ascended up the twists and turns, black vines snagging at their ankles. They weren’t in a department store anymore--they had entered the witch’s lair. The ceiling opened above them jaggedly, its gaping maw revealing the green-black night sky. The moon was close enough to touch, its glow dizzying. Wendy stood with the woman, an arm around her shoulders as she coaxed her away from the building’s edge.

“A witch’s kiss. this is definitely the spot.” she announced, holding up the woman’s limp hand. A black design was etched into her skin, beautifully intricate-- a perfect representation of poison. Dipper’s mind instantly flashed to a hazy, half-lidded memory. Bill’s lips on his cheek as he murmured the exact same words--a witch’s kiss. Dipper touched his cheek softly, and he could almost remember the feeling of warmth that had spread through his entire chest and made his pulse jumpy and quick. His thoughts were abruptly cut off as the ground swirled open beneath them. Shrieking, Mabel caught onto his arm, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his sleeve as they fell into the neon blue abyss below them.

The pair landed lightly on their feet, Mabel’s hair fanning gently across her shoulders. Opening a single eye tentatively, Dipper took in their surroundings. They had to be in the heart of the witch’s lair. There was no other explanation for their tripped-out surroundings. The walls seemed to gurgle, dripping a neon colored bath, every sort of shade in the rainbow on hyper mode. Black vines seemed alive at their feet, curling, expanding, contracting.

Before Dipper could catch a breath, familiars began to close in on them. They let out awful, scraping moans, plaster appendages swinging wildly. Trembling, Mabel began to swing her bat at them aimlessly, the hollow crackle of plastic against wood ringing out.

A familiar swung forcefully at his shoulder, hitting hard enough to leave a bruise. Hissing in pain, Dipper elbowed it in the side. Its chest caved without much of a fight, and Dipper’s favorite jacket was covered in bright pink goop.

“WHERE’S WENDY?” Mabel yelled out, bashing in the head of one of the familiars, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Dipper gasped, driving his fist into a familiar’s middle. It fell to the ground, and more and more just kept coming. They were endless. Even if they were easily taken out, Dipper didn’t know how long he could drag out his stamina.

“Some magic would be really useful right now!” Mabel huffed. Will appeared by her side almost instantly.

“Magic?” he asked innocently, tilting his head to the side.

“Will! Oh my god, where’s Wendy?!” Dipper cried, kicking a familiar away roughly.

“Oh! She’s over there.” Will replied nonchalantly, jamming his thumb to the right. Without a second thought, Dipper grabbed Mabel’s hand, shoving his way past a near wall of familiars, the two of them sprinting in the direction Will had pointed them in.

Coiled in a thick web of vines was Wendy’s limp form, her head hanging forward and her arms spread to her sides, crucified.

“Wendy!” Mabel gasped, ripping the vines away. Wendy’s body fell into her arms, and she staggered back, struggling to support the extra weight. Dipper moved to help her, slipping his hands underneath Wendy’s arms and setting her gently on the ground. Her eyes were closed, sunset lashes brushing her cheekbones.

“Is she dead..?” Mabel asked in a nearly silent voice. Dipper opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't be sure.

"She isn't dead, she's unconscious." Will diagnosed, holding up Wendy's soul gem. Its glow faltered, but it was still there.

"Oh man, good." Dipper murmured, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his heart from racing, trying to ease the burning in his overworked lungs.

"Yeah, but what are we supposed to do without her, Dipper?" Mabel said with a voice coated in agitation. She pointed her bat in the direction they had come, and Dipper's line of sight shifted to familiars limping towards them from several directions.

"Shit. I dunno Mabel." he breathed, tugging at his hair nervously. In the distance, something flickered--his flashlight. He bounded over, picking it up. He clicked it on and off, then shone it in Mabel's face. "We fight. Starting with this." he said with a hardened gaze and a flex in his jawline, throwing his flashlight at the familiars as hard as he could.

While they were momentarily distracted, Dipper grabbed Mabel's hand in his left, and Wills hand in his right, and took off running.

"Dipper! We can't leave Wendy behind!" Mabel cried, tugging at him to turn back.

"Wendy got us into this mess." Dipper said through gritted teeth, pulling Mabel further. He was going to get his sister away from this disaster, and they were going to go home, and it would be like nothing had ever happened. Calm, peaceful, and uneventful.

The ground began to fold itself like a checkerboard, shifting into something new. Yelping, Will buried his face into Dipper's shoulder. Dipper's steely gaze melted into horror. Before them stood the witch, huge and powerful and unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The witch let out a shriek and flailed, and Wendy came into view on its shoulder.

"Bet you thought you saw the last of me!" she laughed, burying her ax into its face over and over. Before Dipper could stop her, Mabel had run forward and begun to whack at the witches feet, yelling horribly cliche lines she had stolen from video games.

"Jesus." Dipper breathed, finding himself unable to move, mesmerized as Wendy cut into the witch with ruthless precision.

_“Tear at the vines near the bottom, Dipper. That’s the source of Charlotte’s power.”_

__

Moving forward almost mechanically, Dipper obeyed the voice in his head, ripping at the vines near the bottom of the witches huge circus-tent skirt, black ink staining his fingers and clothes as he tore. Above him, the witch cried out in a terrible violin sonata, stumbling forward and nearly crushing him.

“Lamina finem!” Wendy laughed wildly, and her ax doubled in size. She swung one last time, and the entire realm around them swirled into a black and pink suffocation, caving in and leaving the four of them standing in the middle of the store, which was otherwise normal once again.

“Ha! We did it guys!” Wendy grinned, looking slightly insane, the red of her hair a gloriously mussed curtain around her, back in her school uniform. Navy plaid pleated over her pale thighs, lifting slightly as she stretched her arms over her head.

“That was terrifying, and awesome.” Mabel smiled, resting her hand on her hip and leaning on her bat. Dipper just stayed silent. He had a million things to say, but none of them were very...choice.

Wendy plucked up the grief seed sticking out of the ground, frowning at it for a moment, her eyebrows drawn up in the middle. She turned and tossed it into the shadows.

“You take it.” she said coldly.

Bill emerged from the darkness, the grief seed clutched in his fingers, long, black cloak sweeping the floor. His face was obscured by the shadow of his cloak’s hood. His bright eyes were golden-icy. He shook his head and tossed it back to her with perfect aim.

“Just keep them out of this, Wendy. I hate begging, but I’m ready to do it if I have to.”

Wendy touched the grief seed to her soul gem, watching as the emerald shone clearly again.

“They’re not little kids, Bill. They can make their own decisions. Stop being so selfish about your territory.” she said. Bill glared at her, and his eyes landed on Dipper, immediately going warm. Dipper felt like he was under a microscope, like Bill could see every single heartbeat in his body with those eyes. Bill mouthed a _‘don’t’_ with a pink mouth, his eyes pleading. Dipper hated those god damned sad eyes. It made him feel like someone was slowly ripping his lungs and heart out. It fucking hurt.

Dipper didn’t answer. He just stood there, trembling on legs he was surprised hadn’t collapsed yet. His head ached. Bill gave him a dejected half-smile, and Dipper realized it was Bill’s voice that had sounded in his head when he had felt hopeless as they battled the witch. He must’ve been there the whole time, waiting to jump in, just in case.

  
“Leave, Bill. Just...go.” Dipper snapped, head in his hands and his eyes closed, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was done. When finally he looked up, there was only Mabel, Wendy and Will with him. Bill was gone, just like he had asked of him.


	5. Requium for a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I didn't post the chapter on Wednesday like I was supposed to! I just moved across the country for school and I've been super busy with homework and other shenanigans! I might not update tomorrow on time either but I'll definitely try! anyways, this chapter is one of my favorites ;) short but sweet-ish. enjoy!

Apprehensively, he opened one eye, then the other. His gaze was met with gold--the soft, malleable, gentle gold that was Bill Cipher’s eyes. Dipper shivered, and tried in vain to blame it on the cold. He blinked up at Bill, taking in the purple blackness framed that his form, the brilliant stars shining off the blonde of his hair.

The first thing Dipper noticed about his current situation was the color red. Thin lines of red, tied to every available inch of space oh his skin, forcing him to hold his arms out by his sides, above his shoulders. Red around his waist, digging into his wrists, extending outwards. Miles and miles of thread. Each was tied meticulously, painfully perfect. He was strung up like a puppet.

Warm fingers ran over his bare shoulders, down his side, stopping at his hip.

“Bill..” Dipper managed, his voice raspy.

“Dipper.” Bill answered, his eyes trained on Dipper’s. His hand moved back up Dipper’s side, a tentative, barely-there touch. A thread was laced through his fingers, and Dipper could feel its ridges as Bill's hand traveled over his waist. He swallowed nervously.

“Bill. What… what are you doing? What is this?” Dipper asked, voice rising in pitch with his panic as he tugged at the threads tied to his arms .

“Stop that. Don’t worry--that’s my job.” Bill assured softly, his fingers flitting over Dipper’s neck as he tied yet another line of string. Grinning, he tugged at it playfully, causing Dipper’s head to bob forward. “But if you must know...well...how do I put this…?” he paused. “This, Dipper Pines, is your fate.”

Dipper’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. Much, much too fast. He could feel Bill’s words on his lips, he was so close. Frowning, he licked his lips.

“Fate…? What does this have to do with you, exactly? You...you leave me in the dark, you act all important and mysterious, and you don’t tell me jack-shit! I’m sick of it, Bill!” he stammered, trying to move back, as far away as he could. Bill’s fingers tightened around the thread so hard that his knuckles turned pale, and Dipper was unable to move, his grip was so tight.

“Jeez, Pinetree.” Bill sighed. “You can't just...say that. This has everything to do with me.” he said softly. “These.. they’re your strings of fate, and they wouldn’t exist--you wouldn’t exist without me. I clean up after your mistakes. Whether you hate it or not, you can’t control it.” Bill smiled, almost mockingly. Dipper felt anger bubble in his chest. Confusion was his worst enemy, and Bill was the epitome of confusion.

“Stop being cryptic and give it to me straight, Cipher!” he hissed, tugging harder at his restraints. Fate was bullshit. Everyone knew that. Dipper didn’t believe in nonsense.

“Well..Every time you fuck up a timeline, I clean up after you. If I seem familiar...Well..” Bill bit his lip thoughtfully, and glanced up at Dipper through pale, long lashes. “...it’s because I am.” he smirked, his features beautifully twisted. His body almost seemed to meld into the supernova that surrounded them, a vivid black-purple, glittering with numberless stars.

“I’ve never met you in my life. Don’t be stupid.” Dipper growled, annoyed at the way his heart pounded hopefully, betraying him in the very worst way that it could.

Lost in frustration, Dipper knocked his forehead against Bill’s gently, searching his eyes. But Bill’s eyes held no answers, only questions. Endless, open-ended questions. And despite himself, Dipper noticed things--tiny flecks of gray in all that gold, and soft, light freckles painting Bill’s nose and cheeks. Dipper felt light headed. He was a sucker for freckles

“So...are you going to keep staring, or are you going to kiss me already, dummy?” Bill breathed, his eyes alight with mischief. He tugged on the string bound to Dipper’s neck, pulling him forward.

“Don’t call me that, Bill. You’re the stupid one.” Dipper scowled, looking away. Silence hung between them for a moment.

"I'm only stupid when it comes to you." Bill admitted quietly, his cheeks tinged red as the thread in his hands. He fiddled with it idly, twisting it around his fingers. "And I can't afford to be like that anymore. This is my last string. After that, this is all gone. You and I. All of it. We can't mess up, which is why I have to stop ...being so...easy on you..." he mumbled, eyes going half-lidded and his sentences slowing as he moved closer.

Bill leaned forward, his lips brushing over the corner of Dipper's mouth, missing. It was so sweet it made Dipper ache. He let out a soft noise, leaning closer, his lips parting against Bill’s. A murderer, a stalker, a mystery--the boy in the back of his head. Bill tugged at the endless red threads tied to Dipper’s arms and torso, their hips knocking against each others, noses bumping as their mouths parted further, getting a feel for each other.

And every kiss was their first kiss. Time was endlessly, irreparably broken.

* * *

 

Dipper woke up twisted in his sheets, facing the ceiling, his heart jumping. With shaking fingers, he touched his mouth, flooded with leftover feelings. His eyes stung, and his throat felt tight with unwarranted tears.

In the next room, Mabel slept silently, and their parents slept silently, and the entire house was silent, and Dipper wished he could disappear. No one would notice, at that point. His shirt was coiled uncomfortably to the side, and he fixed it, hands trembling. He could feel Bill’s fingers on his skin, it was so god damned vivid.

He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and got out of bed, finding himself wandering to the balcony. It was three am, and snow fell like dust off of clouds, flakes landing in his hair and sticking. He could feel his cheeks turn pink from the cold as he tipped his face to the sky. Nothing but stars. No Bill, no magic, no dead bodies or witches or weapons. Just miles of stark, glittery stars.

Dipper felt hollow inside. He kind of always did. The thing was, he always had Mabel by his side, and his parents loved them, and he loved his parents right back, and his school was wonderful and he lived a comfortable life. But there was always this uncomfortable feeling he had, like something wasn’t right, like things were too...pleasant, and plain. He felt plain. There was absolutely nothing exciting about him. He had nothing to offer to the world but another number. He wasn’t courageous. He didn’t fight for the people he loved. A hurricane like Bill would never, ever kiss him like that. People like Dipper didn’t deserve sparks.

Dipper Pines was not the type to cry, but right then, fat, sticky-hot tears rolled down his cheeks, gathering at his chin and turning cold. His shoulders shook as he tried to catch them with the edge of his blanket, before they fell onto his ratty old t shirt.

Out of nowhere, arms encircled Dipper, and his glassy eyes widened.

“Hey..don’t...don’t do that Pine tree. The crying thing...you’re making me feel really down, and I don’t appreciate it.” Bill said gently, rubbing circles into Dipper’s forearm with his thumb.

“Bill! Let go of me!” Dipper protested, squirming in Bill’s arms, twisting so that he faced him. “How did you get onto my porch? How the hell do you know where I live?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that you have no business crying, and I have see to it that this is stopped immediately.” Bill stated. He strengthened his grasp, holding Dipper tightly against his chest.

“You’re trespassing on my property.” Dipper sniffed, fitting his head into the space under Bill’s chin, right over the jut of his collar bone. Warm. Bill was like a human furnace.

“I don’t care. You’re shivering, Pine tree. Let’s get you inside.” Bill coaxed, petting Dipper’s hair.

“No.”

“You’re going to get hypothermia.” Bill sighed, brushing a snowflake off Dipper’s nose with the pad of his thumb, watching gleefully as his cheeks turned pink.

“I don’t really care Bill. I don’t know why you care either, or why you’re standing on my porch. I’m ready to wake up now. This dream is just stupid.” Dipper mumbled. Bill frowned. The poor guy was entirely dark circles and pale skin and messy hair. Like he never slept at all.

“This isn’t a dream.” Bill laughed and, before Dipper could protest, Bill scooped him up into his arms, surprisingly strong for such a lean stature. Dipper struggled for a moment, before giving up and relaxing in Bill’s hold, closing his eyes as Bill opened the frosted over glass door and brought him inside.

The hallway lights were off, the only light in the house a strange, pink glow emanating from the Dipper’s room at the end of the hall. The wood floors took on their sheen, and Bill frowned. That wasn’t right.

He padded quietly to Dipper’s bedroom, and set Dipper down gently on the bed, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. Leaning forward, Bill placed a soft kiss on the constellation dotting Dipper’s forehead. Dipper remained unmoving--he had already fallen asleep. His chest crested softly with his breathing, and Bill remained fixated on his peaceful face for a moment. There was no worried crease between his eyebrows, and his lips were parted slightly, almost invitingly.

When he moved back, he turned to face the blond girl perched on Dippers dresser. Her long legs were folded beneath her, clad in jean shorts with fur edges, a purple, cashmere v-neck dipping down her chest. She pulled a lollipop out of her mouth with a pop, giving Bill a disinterested look.

“Stop making lovey eyes at your boyfriend, it’s gross.” she scoffed, twirling the lolly’s stick between her fingers. “We have something important to discuss.”

“What is it, Pacifica?” Bill asked wearily.

“You and I have some territorial matters to talk about.” she said. “More specifically, this city.” she paused and hopped down from the dresser.  “Get the hell out. You don’t belong here. This is my game, and you’re just some freak of nature with a pathetic lack of combat skills.” she stated firmly, pointing her cherry lollipop at Bill accusingly.

“Why are you bringing this up now? If you cared about territory you would’ve confronted me much earlier.” Bill asked cautiously, eyes narrowed at her.

“Because.” she grinned. “We’ve got some new territory on our hands, Bill Cipher, and I’m here to let you know that it’s mine.”

“This city isn’t new territory, Pacifica. Everyone knows the game here belongs to Wendy.” Bill countered, taking a step forwards.

“I think you mean it _used_ to belong to Wendy.”

“What are you saying, Pacifica?” Bill asked, a knot of worry forming in his stomach. Behind him, Dipper whimpered in his sleep.

Pacifica grinned widely, licking her lollipop and resting a hand on her hip.

“I mean, that Wendy’s dead.”

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